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Ivy was possessive, domineering, and unpredictable. She also had the strongest will of anyone I had met, fighting a battle in herself that if she won would rob her of her life after death. And she was willing to kill to protect me because I called her my friend. God, how could you walk away from something like that?
Apart from when we were alone and she felt safe from recrimination, she either held herself with a cool stiffness or fell into a classic vampire mode of sexy domination that I had discovered was her way of divorcing herself from her feelings, afraid that if she showed a softening she would lose control. I think she had pi
Dressing quickly, I made my way back to the empty kitchen. The clock above the sink said it was edging toward four. I had loads of time to make a spell for Gle
Pulling out one of my spelling books from the shelf under the center island counter, I sat at my usual spot at Ivy's antique wooden table. Contentment filled me as I opened the yellowed tome. The breeze coming in the window had a chill that promised a cold night. I loved it here, working in my beautiful kitchen surrounded by holy ground, safe from everything nasty.
The anti-itch spell was easy to find, dog-eared and spotted with old splatters. Leaving the book open, I rose to pull out my smallest copper vat and ceramic spoons. It was rare that a human would accept an amulet, but perhaps if he saw me making it, Gle
I was measuring the springwater with my graduated cylinder when there was a scuffing on the back steps. "Hello? Ms. Morgan?" Gle
I didn't look up from my careful measuring. "In the kitchen," I said loudly.
Gle
In Gle
I nodded to the island counter. "You can put them over there. Thanks. Have a seat."
With a stilted haste, he crossed the room and set the cuttings down. Hesitating briefly, he pulled out what was traditionally Ivy's chair and eased into it. His jacket was gone, and his shoulder holster with his weapon looked obvious and aggressive. In contrast, his tie was loose and the top button of his starched shirt was unfastened to show a wisp of dark chest hair.
"Where's your jacket?" I asked lightly, trying to figure out his mood.
"The kids…" He hesitated. "The pixy children are using it as a fort."
"Oh." Hiding my smile, I rummaged in my spice rack to find my vial of celandine syrup. Jenks's capacity to be a pain in the butt was inversely proportional to his size. His ability to be a stanch friend was the same. Apparently Gle
Satisfied the show of his gun wasn't intended to cow me, I added a dollop of celandine, swishing the ceramic measuring spoon to get the last of the sticky stuff off. An uncomfortable silence grew, accented by the whoosh of igniting gas. I could feel his gaze heavy upon my charm bracelet as the tiny wooden amulets gently clattered. The crucifix was self-explanatory, but he'd have to ask if he wanted to know what the rest were for. I had only a paltry three—my old ones were burnt to uselessness when Trent killed the witness wearing them in a car explosion.
The mix on the stove started to steam, and Gle
"Yes ma'am." It was short, both aloof and patronizing.
"Can you stop with the ma'am? Just call me Rachel."
"Yes ma'am."
Ooooh, I thought, it was going to be a fun evening. Peeved, I snatched up the mullein leaves. Tossing them into my green-stained mortar, I ground them using more force then necessary. I set the mush to soak in the cream for a moment. Why was I bothering to make him an amulet? He wasn't going to use it.
The brew was at a full boil, and I turned the flame down, setting the timer for three minutes. It was in the shape of a cow, and I loved it. Gle
His face hardened. "Captain Edden is making me take you. I don't need your help."
Angry, I took a breath to tell him he could take a flying leap off a broomstick, but then shut my mouth. "I don't need your help" had once been my mantra. But friends made things a lot easier. My brow furrowed in thought. What was it that Jenks did to persuade me? Oh, yeah. Swear and tell me I was being stupid.
"You can go Turn yourself for all I care," I said pleasantly. "But Jenks pixed you, and he says you're sensitive to pixy dust. It's spreading through your lymph system. You want to itch for a week just because you're too stiff-necked to use a paltry itch spell? This is kindergarten stuff." I flicked the copper vat with a fingernail and it rang. "An aspirin. A dime a dozen." It wasn't, but Gle
The detective wouldn't meet my eyes. His foot twitched as if he was struggling to not scratch his leg through his pants. The timer dinged—or mooed, rather—and leaving him to make up his mind, I added the blossoms of jewelweed and dandelion, crushing them against the side of the pot with a clockwise—never withershins—motion. I was a white witch, after all.
Gle
"Not unless they did a spell check on you." I was mildly disappointed. He was afraid to openly show he was using magic. The prejudice wasn't unusual. But then, after having taken an aspirin once, I'd rather be in pain than swallow another. I guess I wasn't one to talk.
"All right." It was a very reluctant admission.
"Okey-dokey." I added the grated goldenseal root and turned it to a high boil. When the froth took on a yellow tint that smelled like camphor, I turned off the heat. Nearly done.
This spell made the usual seven portions, and I wondered if he'd demand I waste one on myself before trusting I wasn't going to turn him into a toad. That was an idea. I could put him in the garden to police the slugs from the hostas. Edden wouldn't miss him for at least a week.
Gle
"That's it?" he questioned, his brown eyes wide.
"That's it."
"No lighting candles, or making circles, or saying magic words?"
I shook my head. "You're thinking of ley line magic. And it's Latin, not magic words. Ley line witches draw their power right from the line and need the trappings of ceremony to control it. I'm an earth witch." Thank God. "My magic is from ley lines, too, but it's naturally filtered through plants. If I was a black witch, much of it would come through animals."